Rogue Nation
by Maharani Radha
Summary: Crossover with Mission Impossible. James Moriarty is the head of an international criminal network known as The Syndicate. John Watson is a former IMF agent sent to use Moriarty's interest in Sherlock Holmes to get to him. John planned for many things when he took up a flat share with Sherlock. Unfortunately, love wasn't one of them.


**5 March 2012; Antigua Guatemala, Guatemala; 15:00 hours**

" _Estamos_ (We're here)," the driver of the old, red pick-up said as he pulled up to the quadrangle in front of La Universidad de San Carlos. The man in the passenger seat looked around at the bustling square full of tourists, university students, and street vendors hoping to make a living. It was oddly normal. He supposed that was the issue with his life. Normal for him was most decisively _not_ normal.

" _Gracias, Emilio. Muchas gracias_ (Thank you, Emilio. Thank you very much)," the man replied, pulling his baseball cap over his head and stepping out of the car. He opened the door to the backseat and collected his duffle bag. Before leaving, he pulled out his wallet and rifled through the cash before extracting three hundred Guatemalan quetzals and handing them to the extremely surprised Emilio.

"¿ _Estás seguro, Juan?_ (Are you sure, Juan?)" Emilio replied, clutching the brand new notes in his hand like a lifeline. Juan smiled.

" _Sí, por supuesto_ (Yes, of course)," Juan said, shifting his feet anxiously, " _Emilio, por favor, ten cuidado. No voy a verte otra vez_ (Emilio, please be careful. I will not be seeing you again.)." Emilio nodded and clutched the cash closer to his chest.

" _Sí. Y tú, Juan, buena suerte._ (Yes. And you, Juan, good luck)," Emilio said with one last look before driving off down the cobbled streets of Antigua leaving Juan on the side of the road. Juan sighed before walking around the square. He was not quite sure what he was looking for, but he would know it when he saw it.

He passed a family of tourists from New York who was clearly lost. The mother was trying to navigate the map while the father was trying, unsuccessfully, to use his rather limited Spanish to solicit help from passerby. Juan considered stopping to help them, but decided against it, and continued walking. He passed a small woman who was carrying basket full of fabric on her back and was trying to sell her creations to many uninterested people. Juan always admired the hard work of these vendors. It could not be easy living like that, not knowing if you would sell enough to be able to eat. There were at least ten other people within a six-foot radius selling similar, if not identical, things. There was little chance that this poor woman would stand out amongst such competition. Despite this, he did not really have much time to help her out and was about to continue on his way when he heard a voice call out to him:

"¿ _Una pulsera, señor?_ (A bracelet, sir?)." The woman he had just been contemplating was holding out a woven purple and blue bracelet with the word "Guatemala" in black lettering. He was just about to politely refuse, when the woman spoke again.

"¿ _O unas gafas?_ (Or glasses?)." The woman pulled out what looked like a cheap pair of sunglasses from the pocket of her skirt and held it out to Juan. Juan regarded the woman carefully for a moment before taking the offered sunglasses from her hand.

" _Diez quetzales, por favor_ (Ten quetzals, please)," the woman said, keeping her hand extended. Juan nodded and pulled a ten-quetzal note from his wallet. Smiling, the woman accepted the note and went back to selling her bracelets as if the entire exchange had not happened.

Juan stared at the woman for a short while before turning around and slipping the sunglasses on. Instantly, a blue screen popped up before his eyes displaying a logo and the letters IMF in a huge font. After a minute, a man's voice sounded through some invisible speaker.

"Good afternoon, Agent Hunt," said the disembodied voice. "Recently, in Bangkok, a lone suicide bomber wearing a yellow jacket set off a massive explosion that killed 12 people and injured dozens more. Just a few days after that Air Emirates flight 936 mysteriously disappeared off the coast of Madagascar. Again yesterday in Guatemala City an unknown catalyst destroyed a truce between two rivals gangs, setting off a massive shoot-out leaving twenty people dead and countless injured. Although these incidents seem to be unrelated, IMF intelligence believes these attacks to be planned and carried out by members of an international criminal network known as The Syndicate. Intelligence also believes that The Syndicate is controlled by a single man by the name of James Moriarty."

A picture of James Moriarty appeared on the blue screen. He wasn't at all what Hunt would have expected. It was the picture of a young man, no older than 35. He had short dark hair and wore what appeared to be an expensive Westwood suit. The most disconcerting aspect of the man was his face. To the naïve observer, he could be considered, well, cute. There was nothing about his face that screamed dangerous, with the notable exception of his eyes. His eyes were filled with malice, hatred, and the odd hint of pleasure. They displayed what this man truly was—a genius who had clearly undergone a psychotic break.

"Several international organizations including Interpol, the Mossad, and the CIA have attempted to unravel the organization by terminating individual high ranking members," the voice continued. "This strategy has proven useless as Moriarty is quick to find replacements and continue the growth of his network. Intelligence suggests that the best way to destroy this web is by taking down the centerpiece—Moriarty himself. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to eliminate Moriarty first and then eliminate any remaining threats. As always you may choose your team…"

Immediately Hunt began thinking of his former team members, Brandt, Benji, and Luther.

"…However," the voice continued again, "One of your team members must be former IMF agent Doctor John Watson, currently a captain in the Royal Army Medical Corps."

A picture of John Watson appeared on the blue screen. Just as with Moriarty, Watson was not someone Hunt would expect to have joined the IMF agent. He appeared to be a fairly average man, but obviously that was not the case. It was clear that Watson's greatest strength was his unassuming demeanor.

"We believe that Captain Watson will be particularly useful in gaining information about Moriarty himself, particularly by befriending and working with Moriarty's latest intellectual adversary, Sherlock Holmes."

An image of Holmes appeared on the screen. He was definitely a striking man, with a high IQ to match. He was definitely someone who would catch the attention of Moriarty without even trying. Despite his high intellect, Holmes was probably too stupid to realize exactly how much trouble he had gotten himself into. Hunt frowned. He really hated it when civilians got involved in his missions, but unfortunately, it looked like he had no choice on this one. As long as Holmes was not aware of their mission, they might be able to pull this off.

"You have 96 hours to find and recruit Captain Watson for this highly sensitive and secretive mission. As always, if any of your IMF team is caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. Good luck, Agent Hunt. This message will self-destruct in five seconds." Hunt removed the glasses and threw them into the nearest trash bin. Once he heard the telltale "pop" indicating that the glasses had, indeed, been destroyed, he walked off. He pulled out his cell phone and began to dial the one person he knew could get him to the airport in Guatemala City and on a plane in the next four hours. His next stop: Qandahar, Afghanistan.

* * *

Author's Notes: I am a Spanish student and these translations are my own. If I have mistranslated something or if my grammar is incorrect, please do not hesitate to let me know!


End file.
